Page 65 of Counting Backwards

Nearly an hour later, as I reached the end of the document, the section enumerating the relief the plaintiffs sought, the quiet was interrupted by Lydia’s legal assistant, Asahi.

“I brought food!” he called gleefully. He held up two take-out bags from Loukoumi Taverna, our favorite Greek restaurant, famous for their cumin-spiced falafel wraps.

Sean whooped in response, like he’d just won a prize. “You are a legend, Asahi!”

The scent of garlic made its way toward me, and instead of making me queasy, it caused my mouth to water. In recent days the nausea had subsided and I’d been ravenous. For breakfast alone, I could go through two English muffins, fully loaded with eggs, cheese, bacon, and avocado. No matter how much I ate, it never seemed to be enough.

Asahi placed both bags on the lacquered table. People rose from their seats, gathering around the bags to extract foil-covered pita wraps and plastic containers of salads and dips.

I waited while the others rooted around, not wanting to seem as piggish as I was feeling. Wanda noticed me still in my seat and tossed me a wrapped sandwich.

As I smiled gratefully and began opening the foil, Sean came up behind me, glancing at the complaint on the table.

“You’re almost finished. Good.” He pulled out the chair beside me, unwrapping his own sandwich before continuing. “Then you can help me with the request for the Senate investigation. If we can get the Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations to look into this...” He took an aggressive bite of his gyro, then grinned sheepishly as he worked through the large hunk in his mouth. “They’ll find everything. Hopefully they’ll even shut down the facility while the investigation is pending.”

“We should definitely be aiming for that,” Reese said from across the room as she settled back into her seat. She had the kind of long, straight blond hair I’d always envied as a kid. She was a beautiful young woman with a bright future ahead of her. She was also a white all-American girl, probably just the sort of person my great-grandfather would have wanted to clone.

“Getting Hydeford closed, it’s a more immediate solution,” Reese said. “At least then the women would be moved somewhere else where the threat of retaliation would be reduced.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “Although I don’t know why I keep allowing myself to get distracted with this part of the case. I know the DC attorneys are handling the filing with the Office of Inspector General. I should really be working on this list for discovery with you guys.”

“I know why you’re focusing on it,” Asahi said from across thetable. “You want to see those fuckers pay as quickly and dramatically as possible.”

I laughed. “Well, I guess that too.” As I bit into my sandwich, I couldn’t tell whether the warm sensation coursing through my limbs was from the falafel or the camaraderie filling me up. Probably both.

After everyone finished eating and the room quieted down again, I returned to the complaint. Even with only a few pages left to read, I couldn’t regain my focus. The talk of discovery had brought Dustin to mind, probably because we worked together on multiple discovery teams at the firm. Or, more likely, because he simply kept invading my thoughts unbidden, and I was having an increasingly difficult time banishing him. There had been so many times over the past several weeks when I’d wanted to call him, just to tell him what was happening on the case. I thought he’d want to know. But I also didn’t want to confuse myself or Dustin about any feelings we might have for each other, especially not while everything was still so fragile with Vance.

And thingsweregetting better with Vance. Well, sort of. Ever since the night of our reconciliation, we’d both been on our best behavior, and we hadn’t had a single argument.

I sighed thinking about him now. Despite the recent détente, something still felt off. I knew he was trying—like when he started making me flavored decaf coffees every morning, poor but thoughtful substitutes for the espresso shots I’d used as fuel before pregnancy. He bought me a new pair of fuzzy slippers and a full-sized body pillow that was supposed to help prevent back pain as my pregnancy progressed. But such things did not make a relationship satisfying. I was getting what I’d thought I wanted, but it turned out the little gestures didn’t matter to me at all, not when there was still so much we weren’t saying to each other. Attimes I would catch Vance staring at me from the other side of the room, thinking unknowable things. I wondered in those moments if he was looking for traces of evil in my face, second-guessing his decision to make peace.

A noise caught my attention, and I glanced up from the document. As if conjured by my thoughts, Vance stood in the doorway of the project room. He was wearing a dark long-sleeved t-shirt and the gray cargo pants he favored for weekend outings. He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly, beckoning me over. I held a finger to my lips and hurried around the table toward the door.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered as I took his arm and pulled him farther into the hallway.

“Can I kidnap you for a while?” he asked, moving me toward a window. “Take you out for some fresh air and a walk to Washington Square?”

“Vance, I can’t,” I said, trying to sound disappointed. In truth, I was outraged he would ask me to step away when he knew we were nearing such an important deadline. “We’re filing tomorrow, remember? I need to be here to finish this with everyone.”

He smirked. “Trust me, I’m well aware.” Annoyance seeped out of each clipped word. It was the first time in recent weeks he’d used that irritated tone with me. I almost felt relief at hearing the rancor and knowing he was at least being genuine with me. I figured all that hostility had been lurking there, simmering underneath his gentlemanly behavior all this time.

Before I could give it more thought, he backpedaled. “I just wanted to see you. Can we sit, just for a few minutes?” He motioned toward a bench at the end of the hallway.

I nodded and followed. As he sat, his expression turned so serious that I began to worry. His lips were pinched, and he seemed to be holding his breath, gearing up for something.

“What?” I demanded.

“I talked to Gram today,” he started.

“Gram?” I said with sudden panic. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” He waved away the concern. “I just had some things I wanted to talk through with her.”

“Why? Like what?” I felt immediately defensive.

“You’ve been so slammed. I knew you had to cancel brunch plans with her, so I called and offered to take her.”

“Why?” I repeated. “Were you trying to find out more about her father?” Had he co-opted the date simply to interrogate her? A protectiveness welled inside me as I worried about what he might have said or done.